Sheilaclapkin's Blog;

THE TIME IS NOW

Author Unknown

If you are ever going to love me,

Love me now, while I can know

The sweet and tender feelings

Which from true affection flow.

Love me now

While I am living.

Do not wait until I’m gone

And then have it chiseled in marble,

Sweet words on ice-stone.

If you wait until I am sleeping,

Never to awaken,

There will be death between us

And I won’t hear you then.

So, if you love me, even a little bit,

Let me know it while I am living

So I can treasure it.

Dear God,

Please let me die in my sleep earlier than later. I know you love me and want me to have the full extent of life, but may I ask that I go earlier than the first minute there will be no dignity. Actually, before the first second if you can catch it. I came to this notion on my third visit in as many weeks to the Emergency Room. I thank you God that I was only a bystander in the midst of all the hell put upon human beings of all ages.

The television show bringing the ER trauma to the television screen does not capture the reality of standing in the midst of the comings and goings hour after hour of real people and the people who accompany them. It is an unbelievable experience to be up close and personal with the drama. The harsh lighting does not let up and becomes blinding. The lights are on one switch and cannot let one patient at peace while the other needs to be brightly lit.

One family hovering over an old woman gets the news from a doctor, who looks like a teenager, that she has heart failure. She leans over to her, I assume, husband, and says, “What’s that?” He quietly replies, “You have a weak heart and they are going to give you some medication.” “Oh,” she says and closes her eyes.

The diabetic in the next bed is running out of time and her husband is resigned. The husband and wife are so tiny and their son is about six foot six. He said there are four other children, but he is the only one who will assume care giving. Mr. Six Foot Six has desperate troubles with his daughter and the mother of his daughter has left both of them. They admitted Six foot Six’s mother after a 12-hour wait and the father and son, heads bowed, trail slowly after her rolling bed.

They took the man who was throwing up tons of blood right away for treatment and testing. When he was returned to his cubical, he looked dead, except for a blink of his left eye. Within five minutes he was removed not to return during our stint.

I knew nothing about spit masks before this ER evening. A spit mask is a mask covering the face of a combative person and protects law enforcement from the transmission of infectious diseases carried in the saliva. It is a protectant for anyone near enough to be involved. I will tell you there were two separate incidences of combative people tied down and spit masked during our evening in the ER. Each combative person was accompanied by a separate group of police and fire personnel. The ER was becoming filled to capacity and folks in need were filling the isles. Nurses frantically continued to process patients according to need. I would call this night in the ER a “Full House.”

Then, there was The Birthday Party. Oh yes, a parade, there were partygoers carrying streamers, and a magnificent cake. The lovely birthday girl was tied to a board as the crash victim. She finally got the bed directly across from us. She was untied, section-by-section, and only suffered a minor whiplash. Thank goodness for her good fortune. The father was calculating the time to the exact moment, twenty-one years go when her birth began her life. The minute the right time was announced, the partygoers were summoned; they paraded into the ER and the party of a double celebration of life began. Let me add that the police officers that took the accident information and the firemen who accompanied the entourage posed for pictures with the beautiful birthday girl.

Again, God, thank you for watching over all of us in the ER being helped in such an accomplished manner and thank you for helping the hard working ER team, who helps so many in need, day after day, night after night!

Sincerely,

A Bystander

I did not seek the attention, rather I like to sit obscurely in the back of the room with a piece of my hair hiding my eyes, wearing dark under stated clothing, head bowed.  Don’t see me, please do not.

The attention I do like to observe is the one where you would use the thinking process and selectively concentrate on one aspect of the process. This kind of thinking would leave me alone to sit unobserved.

The attention I wish to discuss today and its outcome is the type of notice taken of someone and the regarding of someone as interesting or important, as well as worth the consideration, and the observation of worthiness. It happened to me one day a few months ago. Someone noticed me all scrunched over, hair flying, trying to hide.  How could I have been found, I have been hiding for so long. I found out that you just couldn’t hide from keen observers and skillful people.

I go to a luncheon every month, usually unobserved. This time I got caught. One precious lady asked if I would allow her to pull my hair back in a new do. I said, “Ok.” Then, another asked if I would allow her to smooth some make up on my cheeks and above my eyes. Again, I said, “Ok.” The make up was pulled from the recesses of a huge purse and applied. Little strands from my hairdo were pulled so I had a windswept look. Everyone noticed my new diamond earrings. Everyone thought I looked so fabulous. Everyone said I should always pull my hair up, dab on make up and pull strands. Someone began to apologize because she thought maybe they had overstepped their boundaries and hurt my feelings.

Oh, I spent the rest of the afternoon assuring the ladies how happy I am to have their attention and caring. I will spend the rest of my life thanking them for the new look and the lessons on how to achieve my new windswept, awesome look and thanking them for their precious practiced worldly attention. Next time you see me I will not be scrunched up, hair over eyes in the back of the room hoping you do not notice me.  I will be up front looking like these ladies have just coiffed, brushed, and applied my new look. See me now.

Messina is Sicily and considered Italy as well.  I contacted our tour office and they suggested I write it as, Messina, Sicily, Italy, so I have. They issued a statement for me to quote, so I will. “Messina (Missina in Sicilian) is the third largest city on the island of Sicily, Italy and the capital of the province of Messina. A turbulent history of natural disasters and wartime damage has led to much of the city being rebuilt over the years, but there are many treasures that can still be discovered-the port is the gateway to the incredible town of Taormina and the infamous Mount Etna.”

Skip and I experienced a wonderful tour of Sicily some years ago, visited Taormina, Mount Etna and Messina, so I thought I knew the town of Messina and we decided to re-visit it again on our own two feet.  I was wrong. Perhaps we were in the province of Messina, but never this town.  I noticed four other large ships in the port with us, but did not think of the consequences of six or seven thousand people swooping into the same town, wanting to see the same Duomo we wanted to see.  On our walk with thousands of others, we thought, taking the side streets would lessen the crowds.  It proved to be a good move. We became enchanted with watching the bell maker. Look at the photo of the bells we wanted to take home, but how? Can you see the turner? They come in all sizes and we were going to sightsee first and then come back to become the proud owners of a smaller, much smaller version of the circle of bells.

By the time we decided to go back, the town had changed into a herd of tourists and we could not find our little side street; we even had trouble figuring out which way to return to the port. Heavy crowds are disorientating.

Crowds are wonderful places for venders on foot to get up into your face trying to tempt you with their goods. It became so annoying that I began to take their photos when they got too close, a good target and a quick move on.

Piazza Duomo Basilica Cattedrale Messina: What a beautiful and serious place to visit. The vibes in this Plazza Duomo are soothing, caressing, calming, and all the while ushering you to a place of knowing. The candles are my interest when I enter a special place of holiness. The candles here are electric. You just turn the top, right?  Wrong. They are all hooked up to electric outlets and you are to drop your donation for candlelight into a slot connected to the electricity and then and only then can you turn the candle light on. How modern. Look, a tourist is standing in front of The Fountain of Orion in the Piazza. Duomo.

We noticed that all of the big hop on hop off red buses were filled; all of the coaches were filled. How are we going to get a bigger glimpse of this city?  We didn’t did we?  Yes we did, we rode the choo choo train all around Messina.  The town’s buildings are built close together managing space well. We noticed the housing was one on top of another and a glint of space and another big housing project and another and another until space ran out.  Skip said, “Love thy neighbor as thy self” has to be very true in these living conditions.

All goes to show you can make your way through the crowds, and have a rewarding travel day. I notice that travelers go to the same places and each person sees something different, something their way according to their perspective.

Corfu in the early morning rain.

The title describes the tour we took. I will suggest that you be mindful of any tour or really anything that has the “best of” in its description.  This was a jam packed all day tour, so you only have a little time on the bus from place to place for sitting down time, which is a test of endurance that should be inflicted only on the much younger. I did hear complaints of aching and tiredness as the tour progressed from the youth as well.

We followed a little lovely girl with a sign saying  #1. Did I mention there were fifty of us? Oh well, there were until the very end.  We didn’t lose a single one.  When with big groups it is hard to stick with everyone because sometimes you cannot hear, people crowd way up too close, the WC is crowded with line-ups and the most disconcerting thing to me was the traveler’s cough. I haven’t noticed it before the bus tour. Please allow me a moment of time out to piss and moan.

The bus was full of red nosed, coughing, spitting, nostril running, hacking, blowing, gagging, huffing people, and I was just waiting for the whopper of vomit when thanks be to God it did not occur. Skip did not hear the coughing and he thought I was again, overreacting.  So each time there was a grunt, sputter, crackle, spit or guttural sound, I would give his arm a clunk. Finally when he was black and blue. He said, “That is enough, I hear it.”  I mention this because this kind of thing gets to my very core.  So thanks for the sideline.

Again, we were lucky because it had rained hard in the early morning hours, but for our tour it was only the ground that was still wet.  We had to be careful.  Our first stop after you enjoy a coastline drive, passing six small cove beaches, is the Museum and Palace of Achillion.   This beautiful building and grounds is of Pompeian style and was built by the Empress of Austria and Queen of Hungary Elizabeth, called Sissy.  She gave the name Achillion to honor Homer’s hero Achilles.  You know of Achilles tendon fame.

One of the stories told along the way: There is a very happy couple living in the countryside in their home, in their grove of olive trees.  God sees them and comes down to ask them if they are happy with their lives. They both answer, “Yes we are very happy with our lives.” God wanted to know why they were so happy with so little. They said that they have each other, and they have food from their trees, if it is cold they can burn the wood from their olive trees, they can build their home with the olive wood and they can make beautiful furniture from olive tree wood.  God said, is there anything I can do for you” They both agreed that they wanted to be buried side by side, and they were. This is the reason that when the olive tree grows the trunk splits in two showing the happiness of the couple living in and amongst their olive trees.

We were to have a leisurely drive through Paleokastritsa village on our way to the Virgin Mary Monastery, inhabited by monks, founded in 1228 to present day.  The concept is lovely, but the bus driver sped so fast through all villages, they became a blur, a blurb, and a blip of what could have been luscious eye candy. I noticed those around me were holding tightly to the handles provided. Pretty soon your head began to swim, so with your eyes closed you are driven through scenes, past and present, with a future to come when you are long gone.

The visit inside the Monastery proved beautiful and wonderful, but revealed a human behavior in all of us, monastic or not is that we have a temper only to be touched upon. One monk holding a bag banged vigorously on a door that would not open. He did not give up and his pounding became more and more angered, as the pounds were not answered.  We moved on as I pondered humanity at all levels.

We noticed that women have donated their precious jewelry to the church and it is on display under glass. Many cats lounge comfortably and well fed on the premises.

Everyone was handed candles to light, but had them taken back if no money was donated.  I was moneyless and honest to gosh, that twit took my candle back.

Hunger was setting in and we were promised lunch at a winery located in the foothills of central Corfu.  There was an outside setting with a traditional Greek luncheon.  It was explained that in Greece they are harshly treated by the economy, but we should notice that they have good, plentiful food and are well fed. True.  Local dancers presenting traditional dances, dressed traditionally as well, entertained us.

Now it was time to see the Venetian influenced town of Corfu. It is beautiful, but much in need of repairs due to rotting and crumbling buildings. Even with repairs needed, this attractive town is picturesque as you wander through the narrow streets with hidden squares and wonderful free Wi-Fi at M.C. Donald’s. The souvenir shops dominate the entrance of the town and one must travel a little further afield to enjoy some of the towns other charms.

We understand today Corfu’s largest export is olive oil and the main source of income is tourism. Thank God for the olive oil and the almighty tourist because the unemployment rate in Greece is 30% and the unemployment rate for males between the range of 25 and 35 years old is 50%. Daunting.

My favorite photo! What do you see??

Skip in a modern stadium!

Beautiful view from the Monastery.

So far our journey has taken us on the Sea of Marmara, The Mediterranean Sea, The Aegean Sea and now the Ionian, soon to enter the Adriatic. . I mention these seas because I am surprised and thrilled.

Today we docked as we starred into the Ionian. It really exists.  Of course it does, but exists with us about to travel into the countryside out and beyond the headlands of Katakolon.

Back in February I contacted Andrew Stathopoulos a well-recommended Taxi Tour person living in Pyrgos the little village next to Katakolon, our port.  He was so happy to see us emerge from the ship early and we were as happy to see him. He told us how lucky we were because the day before our arrival it rained steadily for six hours.  The ships in port that day would not let their passengers off the ships.  Oh can I tell you, they really missed something special, very special and we are so lucky to have experienced our day.

First we headed to the ancient site of Olympia where ancient Greeks came every four years for over a millennium to celebrate the sacred games dedicated to the Greek God Zeus.

Of course it is in ruins, but we purchased a book showing it THEN and how we were seeing it TODAY, certainly non-distinguishable.

Every time they light the torch for the Olympic games, they come to this spot and celebrate, then send the torch on to its next sacred destination. After viewing the ruins, we went to the Archeological Museum to see bits and pieces from the era dating back to the beginning of the Olympic games. My question comes into full force, how did they know the building looked as they say it did, how did they know the colors, and how much of the sculptures they showed did they add?  How do they know Zeus from Poseidon or Hadrian? Perhaps they guessed well.

We drove through beautiful valleys and vintage villages. We stopped to have a Greek coffee, by the way strong, gritty and delicious, but accompanying the coffee was free Wi-Fi.  Hard to judge which I enjoyed most. We were able to get some of your lovely emails. Thanks for the updates.  Across from our coffee place, Skip found a statue (packable) of his girlfriend Athena.

This area is recovering from a nine-day fire six years ago. They lost many of their trees, but to me the area has recovered, is a beautiful landscape and so relaxed. We had an opportunity to drive up to The Hanging Monastery where women take a vow to live at the top of this mountain for life.  The reason this monastery is placed here perched on the top of the highest location is because they found an icon of the Virgin Mary high on this mount and took it down to the village. After only a few days it was missing from the village and found high atop the mount once again.  After a few more times, they decided to build the monastery on the spot the icon was discovered and had returned so many times.  I think it was an honor to visit this spot and be a part of this special place for only a tiny amount of time, but the huge feeling of love and respect that developed in our memory remains.

On the way back to the ship Andrew stopped and bought us baklava and cookies, took us by his home showing us that he had done all the work by himself and topped off the day by giving us a bottle of olive oil he grew, picked and processed himself. What a fellow!

The track at Olympia.

In 1650 what was once a closed ring of land suffered a huge earthquake and repairs were made, then fifty years later a huge volcanic eruption like the world has never known before or since, broke the ring into five separate islands. The volcanic ash is still good for fertilizing the land. Santorini is fortunate to have underground water, but only for use to wash, grow fruits and vegetables, but it is not drinkable. All inhabitants of the island drink bottled water.  I thought that was very interesting as water, and not a drop to drink surround them.

Our ship docked out at sea and we had to be tendered into the port, once in port you make your way to the funicular, a donkey or your own two feet for a ride or a walk up the mountain to the city of Santorini perched high on top of the mountain. How lovely to be transported into such sights you only think are in travel magazines, not real places. This place is real.  After we explored Santorini, which is tough walking on rocks jammed into cement and steps going up and down, and down and up some more. The walk ended and we hopped a bus for Oia a most magnificent town as well.  After more horrendous, ups and downs and tourists you find yourself coming to more magazine sights. I enjoyed my own two feet and a great big thank you to the people who told us the night before our journey to wear strong shoes.

Later in the afternoon we were treated to a little winery trip and discovered a raisin wine. Oh, so good.

I must say all the sights and sounds of Santorini are glorious as you will see, and my wish for all of you is that you have been here or someday will visit.

When you gather at your table for dinner with tablemates, after a day of enjoying your docked destination, the stories of things seen and done differ as much as night and day.  One couple tells their story of hiking the 365 stairs up and down from the sanctuary of Athena in a most ancient town of Lindos. We viewed Lindos during our Taxi Tour and squinted high at the Temple of Athena, but only in passing, knowing we were not going to make the trek.

We were docked on the Eastern side of Rhodes and after visiting several churches, the Palace of the Masters, and yes, Virginia there is a Mc Donald’s in the city center. Honestly, unbelievable. It is quite nice that they intentionally painted it a color that matches nicely with the lovely ancient downtown walls to remind you of the medieval days and of the Crusaders. One couple we met from Scotland was able to join us on our Taxi Tour around the island viewing the difference in the climate and terrain that changes so distinctly from a few miles to the next few miles.  One area is cooled with the ocean breeze and is packed with hotels and sandy stretches of beaches. A little further on you see Eucalyptus trees lining streets, patches of olive groves, towns and villages all dating back in different times. We did see several attempts to grow with hot houses that have been abandoned.

We wanted to visit some varied types of villages on the island. One village, the oldest one had newly constructed houses next to very old sone ones reminiscent of early man. Other villages had up to date homes and a supermarket.  There is one village we did not see because of the day nearly ending, and the fact that it has turned into rocks and pebbles.

Our next adventure was visiting a pottery factory. Our driver just drove right by it and I asked about turning around and going back. He was pleased we asked and the turn around was well worth our time. We were invited into the back of the factory where a worker was beautifully etching a bell. Towards the end of the day in the city center we were able to see our pottery factory’s pottery for sale.

My absolutely special moment was visiting the “Hidden Church.” When armies came to spoil things in Greece, the people on Rhodes hid this little church that has been carved out of the rock. It is actually a cave.  Photo of the church is the one with the little red door. We all stood quietly. No one moved.  I was hoping for something to happen out of the ordinary and I was not let down. Someone, a female, wiped my tears and dusted off my shoes. I thought how sweet, then, but now that I have given it more thought, I know the reasons and the meanings behind the kind actions and appreciate the communications. I have cried more often of late about things I need not shed tears over. More optimism is required. The dusting of my shoes means my explorations by waking are not over they have only slowed down. I will reach my destinations in due time.

Rhodes